


Not Your Average Fairy Tale

by LadyLade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Police Officer Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLade/pseuds/LadyLade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy is lean, cropped-close hair and amber eyes and beauty marks and a mobile mouth that is very, very distracting.</p><p>It's throwing Derek off his game. Badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Average Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by this [post on tumblr](http://ladylaetitialade.tumblr.com/post/31478706772/roseandthebeast-trensu). (Livejournal post [here](http://ladylade.livejournal.com/22147.html).)
> 
> [margi_lynn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/majoline/pseuds/margi_lynn) did a [really awesome podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/702172) of this!

The guy is lean, cropped-close hair and amber eyes and beauty marks and a mobile mouth that is very, very distracting.

 

It's throwing Derek off his game. Badly.

 

Derek walked into the Sheriff's office to finalize his transfer, but now all he's thinking about is how this guy's mouth would drop open when he moans. Derek is going to be thinking about fucking the receptionist when he meets the Sheriff. He wonders what the rule for interoffice relationships is.

 

"Can I help you?" the guy asks, and shit, he looks like this isn't the first time he's asked that question.

 

"Hi," Derek strolls forward, leans against the counter, and puts on his best smile. It's not hard to make it genuine. "I'm Derek Hale."

 

The guy's breath quickens and his pupils blow wide and his face flushes slightly and, oh, yeah, Derek's _got_ this one.

 

"Stiles," the guy says, and when Derek takes the offered hand, Stiles' shake is firm and dry.

 

Cool under pressure. Derek likes that.

 

(He'd also like to fuck Stiles until he loses that cool.)

 

"New in town?" Stiles says.

 

"Pretty obvious, huh?" Derek says. "I'm actually here to finish signing my transfer papers."

 

"It's a small town, you'll get to know everyone pretty quickly. Seriously," Stiles says, "I mean it when I say it's a small town. It's a small town."

 

"Well, maybe you can take me around," Derek says, "show me the best spots."

 

"Uhh," Stiles says, and he just stares, open-mouthed, when Derek beams.

 

God, is Stiles gorgeous. He looks sort of young, maybe a few years younger than Derek himself, but that just means he'll have the recovery time for Derek to keep him slick and open on his—

 

The clearing throat startles them both.

 

(Stiles almost falls off his chair, shirt riding up to reveal a thick treasure trail, and Jesus, Derek has a _thing_ about treasure trails and this is not helping.)

 

"Stiles," the Sheriff says, and it must be the Sheriff, he's got that look to him, "aren't you supposed to be finishing up your AP Biology?"

 

AP? Derek glances between the Sheriff and Stiles, the Sheriff looking like he's already got Derek's unmarked grave picked out and Stiles looking aroused and mortified, and oh no. Oh Jesus goddamned son of a whore.

 

Stiles is the Sheriff's son. The Sheriff's probably _under-aged son_.

 

Derek is _fucked_.

 

"We were just talking?" Stiles says.

 

"Yes, thank you for notifying me that my new deputy was here," the Sheriff says. "Chit-chat is much more important."

 

At this point, it's pretty obvious they all know it wasn't chit-chat that was going on.

 

"Derek Hale, sir," Derek says.

 

"Sheriff Stilinski." The Sheriff grips Derek's hand like he's trying to break it.

 

"Oh my god," Stiles says faintly.

 

Derek agrees wholeheartedly. They are _never_ going to find his body.

 

"Let's step into my office, Derek," the Sheriff says.

 

Derek feels like a kid being sent to the principal's office. Except this visit might end with Derek buried in the woods.

 

"I see you've met my son, Stiles," the Sheriff says. Derek almost squirms at his pointed emphasis on the word 'son'.

 

"Yes, sir. I have," Derek says. He feels like every word out of his mouth is just incriminating him further.

 

"How old do you think my son is?" the Sheriff says.

 

"A lot younger that I originally thought," Derek says.

 

The corner of the Sheriff's mouth quirks up for a moment. "Caught that, did you?"

 

"I thought he was the receptionist," Derek says helplessly. "I assumed he was around twenty."

 

"And if you had known he was sixteen?" the Sheriff says.

 

Sixteen? _Jesus fuck_.

 

"Never would have even thought about it," Derek says.

 

The Sheriff must believe him, because he nods and continues on to outline Derek's duties without another word on the subject.

 

Derek's never been so relieved to fill out paperwork in his entire _life_.

 

>>> 

 

When Derek leaves, he leans heavily against the hallway wall just outside of the reception area. He feels weak, adrenaline deserting him after the complete _clusterfuck_ that was the past two hours.

 

"Oh my god, Dad, could you humiliate me more?" he hears Stiles say.

 

"Stiles," the Sheriff says, "he's _twenty-three_. He's a twenty-three-years-old guy whom I have just hired. I'm his _boss_."

 

"He was so hot though," Stiles moans. "He was smoking and ridiculously buff and smooth and he was _flirting_ with me. There was a guy that is everyone's sexual preference and he was looking at me like I was the best steak in the _world_."

 

"Oh, Christ," the Sheriff mutters.

 

Stiles continues like he didn't hear him. "Do you understand the magnitude of what just happened? I am finally appealing to someone and that someone is so far out of my league that I am slightly terrified he is brain-damaged in some way—"

 

"Hey," Derek protests, even though neither Stilinski can hear him.

 

"—and then you come in here and put on your arresting officer face!" Stiles finally finishes.

 

Derek doesn't think he paused for breath once during that speech. He hates himself for the split-second thought that a lung capacity like that would be awesome in the bedroom.

 

"Stiles, you are _sixteen_ and he is _twenty-three_ ," the Sheriff reiterates.

 

"Yes, but you're the Sheriff!" Stiles says. "You have a gun! I'm pretty sure you know exactly where to hide his body so that he'll never be found if he actually did anything."

 

There's a pause.

 

"I don't think you're supposed to be the one threatening potential suitors," the Sheriff says.

 

"Yeah, I don't know how we got here," Stiles admits.

 

"I think that every day, son," the Sheriff says. "Every day."

 

>>> 

 

"I am regretting all of my life choices," Derek says when Laura picks up the phone.

 

"It can't be _that_ bad out there," Laura says.

 

"You don't understand," Derek says, "when the Sheriff came in I was hitting on his _son_. His _sixteen-years-old son_. You are never going to get my body!"

 

Laura just laughs and laughs and laughs.

 

>>> 

 

Derek spends his first day at work getting laughed at by all the other deputies.

 

Derek hates his life.

 

>>> 

 

Derek doesn't see Stiles until two months later, in which period Stiles has turned seventeen.

 

No, Derek has _not_ been avoiding Stiles. Just like he moved out here because it was _way_ safer than being a cop in New York City, not because Derek was terrified that his ex, Kate, was going to burn down his apartment with him in it.

 

Not avoiding. Right.

 

Stiles still looks aroused and mortified when he sees Derek. Derek, unfortunately, probably looks the same way. Apparently this is going to be their Thing.

 

Derek can hear Anna laughing at her desk, the bitch.

 

"Heeeeey, Derek," Stiles says.

 

"Stiles," Derek says, and when he doesn't smile or say anything else, Stile just...droops.

 

Oh, Christ. Stiles looks so dejected that Derek just wants to make him aroused and mortified again.

 

"Well," Stiles says, and fuck this bullshit.

 

Derek rolls his eyes and cuffs him on the back of the head.

 

"Stop moping," he says. "It's not attractive."

 

(That's a total lie.)

 

"Oh," Stiles says, then brightens. "Oh!"

 

"Eighteen," Derek reminds him.

 

"But you might—there might be—there are," Stiles says.

 

Derek grins. "Like you said, it's a small town. There's only one thing catching my eye."

 

Stiles beams and Jesus, Derek's breath actually catches like this is a goddamn Victorian erotica. Every person who's told Stiles that he isn't good enough is a _moron_.

 

Derek grins back, helplessly.

 

"You still want me to show you all the good spots?" Stiles says.

 

"That's be great," Derek says.

 

Standing in the doorway to the reception area, the Sheriff face palms. And then he goes to his office to pour himself a drink.

 

**Epilogue**

 

Derek barely gets the door open before a body crashes into him, arms and legs clenching around him like Stiles is a fucking anaconda.

 

"Happy birthday to me," Stiles mumbles against Derek's mouth as Derek is stumbling backwards.

 

"Jesus, Stiles, let me close the door," Derek says.

 

"Mmm," Stiles says as he sticks his tongue in Derek's mouth.

 

Derek stumbles forward, closing the door and hiking Stiles up by his ass. Multitasking, Derek's got skills.

 

"You have a bed, right? I'm pretty sure you have a bed. Let's go to your bed," Stiles says.

 

"Jesus Christ, you can't just _say_ shit like that," Derek says.

 

But he mouths his agreement against Stiles' neck, groping Stiles' ass as he walks to the bedroom and smiling when Stiles giggles. The Sheriff's going to kill him tomorrow, but Derek will die a happy man.


End file.
